*****
They met at half past three. The events would begin only an hour later, so they hung around in the café until then. Addie had snuck in there early to avoid being spotted, and Kate joined her later.
There was already a huge entourage from the media in anticipation of the chief guest. This was a double whammy for them. While the spotlight was firmly on Prince Kenrick Royce who was to grace the occasion, reporters were also keen to catch his new stepsister, Princess Adelaide, and get a sound bite or two from her. And to check out the chemistry between the two new siblings.
"They didn't leave me alone either!" Kate was telling her friend.
"Oh, they didn't?" Addie asked, marveling at the ingenuity of the talking heads.
"By now it's well known that I'm your best friend. Just last night I was Googling myself, and hundreds of pages got returned in seconds."
"Is that so?" Addie mused.
"I wonder how many pages would open up in my name."
"Oh, I bet it would run into the millions, Addie!" exclaimed Kate.
"You must check it someday."
"Nope," replied Addie.
"I asked for no particular reason. Not really wanting to know anything."
"Look, here they come!" announced Kate, and a swarm of media personnel attacked the café like bees let out of a beehive.
They had not seen them yet, so there was still time. The two of them jumped up and ran towards the back and made their escape like before, through the kitchen with the chefs and waiters looking askance. By now, they were surely used to a little bit of royalty passing through their workplace.
They slipped out and made a beeline to the library. It was not very crowded that day, with all the students either in the auditorium already or getting prepped for the big event. That was a relief to Addie and Kate; they snooped around a bit to find a nice, cozy nook where they could spend the next half hour or so.
*****
"Is this how life will be from here on, and for ever more?"
The question was from Addie and was directed at Kate.
"Well Addie," replied Katie.
"I wouldn't complain. At least you'll not die an unknown, irrelevant individual."
"Kate." There was a tone of warning in that.
"Of what use is this fame, with borrowed greatness? If you must carve a name out for yourself, do it on your own steam. With your talent, your endeavor. Don't you agree?"
"Yes, madam, I do," agreed Kate in a hurry, not quite wanting to get into a debate with her best friend at this time.
Addie had a stage appearance in less than an hour, and it made sense to just hang loose and save up the energy.
"So – are you all set for the reading, Addie?" asked Kate, bringing the focus right back.
"Yeah," Addie answered.
"What's there to prepare anyway? It's just my university and my fellow students. And it's just a poem."
"Yes, just a poem," mused Kate.
"Just one steely chief guest, nobody else, who goes by the name of Prince Kenrick Royce."
"Ah that," admitted Addie.
"That changes everything, huh?"
Both of them laughed so loudly, the librarian had to come out and shush them.
*****
"Addie, it's about time."
Kate shook Adelaide – the latter was immersed in a book. It was the Oxford Book of Modern Verse, what else would you expect?
It was barely five minutes before the Annual Day events were to be kicked off, and they were still in the library. Quickly they collected their things and were on their way. It felt like they were going in for an important examination.
"You do have your printouts, don't you?" Kate asked.
"Yes," replied Addie.
"And nothing else to carry with you?"
"Only my wits."
Kate smiled. That response told her that Addie was in great form.
She eyed her best friend as they walked. Addie was the picture of calm. Not a trace of tension or an ounce of worry on her face. Her forehead – that cute little forehead – was bereft of a single furrow. She was completely in control, the true Miss Cool.
Here we come, Prince Kenrick Royce, said Addie to herself.
Chapter Twenty-Two
"And now, may we invite Princess Adelaide Royce for a poetry recital."
The announcement took Kenrick by surprise. Ever since he'd arrived at the venue, his eyes had been searching for his stepsister, but she was nowhere to be found. But he had kind of figured her out by now, at least a little. With such commotion of the media outside, she was the last person to venture out and risk exposure.
Thanks to his extensive Google search – his fingers were aching towards the end – he knew about her poetry. He even read a few that were online, and grappled with the angst in them. Though not much of a reader, the lines gripped him with a kind of tension, and he made a mental note of going back to this poet and studying more of her work.
Am I getting more civilized? he had asked himself, worried.
If yes, he put it down to the benevolent effect his new stepsister had on him. It was something he never wanted to become, but if this was destiny, who was he to question it?
That evening, as he was sitting on the dais flanked by the dean and senior university officials, with thousands of students forming the audience, he mused at the subtle change in his life – brought about by his stepsister. Just months ago, she was virtually unknown. And he had not heard of her, and would not have, in a hundred years. Today, she played such a vital role in his life, unbeknownst to her. Such were the vagaries of life!
He waited with bated breath for the arrival of the next participant. Not because he loved poems or anything, but because it happened to be his new stepsister who was doing the recital.
In seconds, a svelte human figure emerged from the wings and walked towards the center of the stage. And at once an ocean of flashlights hit the stage from the media enclave, sitting to the left of the stage. In that melee, Kenrick could not see the princess clearly. She was only a silhouette set against the blinding lights from offstage.
And yet, in that silhouette was a world of enchantment for him. For this outline, like a body garment from a far eastern culture, revealed far more than it concealed. In that silhouette, Kenrick saw an ocean of allurement for him. Her perfect hourglass figure, her legs that were longer than long, her flat belly without an ounce of extra fat, and above that, her sensuous, beautiful bosom that gently heaved with her every step. This was a perfect package, a complementary combination of beauty and brains if there ever was.
And I will end up being the owner of this package, Kenrick declared to himself.
Lost in his fantasy world as he was, Kenrick almost missed her subtle curtsey to him. In the nick of time, he had the presence of mind to nod and acknowledge it.
For him, it all happened too fast. Blame his hyperactive mind; from a simple poetry recital session, his superfast brain had raced to a whole different world. A world of testosterone that he was familiar with; a world where all action centered around his tingling loins.
"The Golden Cage." Princess Adelaide announced the title of her poem.
She had given a mini speech earlier – which Kenrick missed, lost as he was in his own musings – in which she thanked the university for this opportunity, made special by the presence of His Royal Highness, Prince Kenrick Royce. This led to cheers in the audience. He also missed the subtle point that she never referred to him as her stepbrother.
Kenrick was watching the audience, and in the front rows, he spotted a face he thought he knew. Then he realized that it was the selfsame girl who was in his stepsister's room that day when he had gone to visit her.
The poem recital began.
Princess Adelaide was an amazing orator of poems. This must be one of her many gifted traits, thought Kenrick.
The poem itself was amazing. With each line, the audience went to raptures. Every stanza was greeted with cheers. The students were roar
ing, and the media was flashing away – their cameras were never idle. It was an electrifying atmosphere.
Kenrick, amidst the uproar, caught a few lines of the poem – and they were not exactly complimentary to the royalty. Little did he know that this was a poem of 'us versus them' – singing paeans to the common folk while trashing the royalty.
And yet, the artistry in it was amazing. The words, the rhythm and rhyme, the cadence – all of it was flawless. The play of phrases, and the meaning within meaning, and the picture it painted, it was something Kenrick had never experienced before. He never knew poetry could be so mesmerizing.
Was this truly written by a twenty-something girl?
When the recital ended, Princess Adelaide got a standing ovation. The crowd was in a frenzy. There was thunderous applause, endless cheers, and even the media personnel were seen clapping their hands. The professors in the front row, and the dean, who was seated next to Kenrick, also stood up – Kenrick was the only one left sitting.
He also got to his feet at once, and joined in the deafening applause. It lasted well over five minutes.
When the last clap was heard, minutes later, it felt as if a thunderous hailstorm had ended. And there were a few murmurs of applause still, here and there, like drops of rain brought down by the wind from dripping branches of trees.
Finally, it was calm.
And all the while, Princess Adelaide was standing at the podium, in front of the mike, nary an expression on her face, patiently waiting for the commotion to conclude. Then she bowed to the audience and left the stage as quietly as she had entered. The applause erupted once again, only to be quieted this time by the master of ceremonies, and members of the audience settled down in their seats.
So that was a poem panning the royals, the thought came back to Kenrick.
Was it written to spite him? He could not escape that obvious conclusion. Everything pointed to it.
When he had visited her recently, he was all pomposity and nose-in-the-air, and it was not a pleasant meeting. To add fuel to the fire, he'd invited her to his chambers.
By all reckoning, she was bound to know all about him, that he was a cock-stock-and-barrel kind of guy. When someone like him came visiting, men were advised to stock their fridges and lock their daughters – not a pleasant reference by any yardstick. That reputation of his was sure to have preceded him, and was likely to be the inspiration behind such poesy.
And yet, he secretly applauded her courage. This girl, who was but a middle class woman months before, had entered the ranks of royalty. She'd wrote a poem about the vast divide between the royals and common gentry. And now she had the guts to read it out in front of the prince himself, no less – in full view of the public and for the consumption of the whole world, thanks to the media and the Internet. That took true bravery.
Kenrick, the wounded party in this contest in more ways than one, sat there wondering what in the world was happening to him. He was secure in his world, so far, with not a finger raised against his superiority or his brand of living. Now, a rank commoner from somewhere was showing him the red flag of challenge.
A bittersweet challenge, thought Kenrick.
Chapter Twenty-Three
"And the Queen's Special Shield for the most outstanding talent of the Annual Day goes to… Princess Adelaide Royce!"
The Queen's Special Shield, or QSS as it was called, was the most prestigious prize of the Annual Day. The contribution of the royal family that honored the star of the day, it was given away at the sole discretion of the chief guest, who happened to be the prince himself.
But there were no murmurs of dissent, no voices blaming nepotism – simply because the audience there had witnessed the tumult that accompanied Addie's performance. And no other event of the day matched up to her act in terms of sheer talent, merit and presentation. Here was the brightest star of the university, one who would well bring laurels for the country in the future. Such a talent needed to be rewarded and encouraged, and what better way than honoring her with the QSS?
To give credit where credit was due, the prince recommended her name for the award – despite the fact that the poem in question was actually anti-royalty. If anything, it just showed the large heartedness of the prince; it was a definite endorsement for free speech from the future king, no less. This important point was also not lost on the audience.
So when the big winner was announced, it was generally accepted as a fair choice. For the media, of course, this was an unbridled feast; after all, one royal was presenting a coveted honor to the other. And that was, of course, the prince to the princess, the latter being a recent addition to the royal rolls. This could be a record of sorts, truly history in the making, and not a moment to be missed in the unfolding parade.
There was Prince Kenrick holding the trophy, standing in the middle of the stage with the dean next to him, awaiting the arrival of the winner.
Addie could not believe what was happening. Was all of this true? Was her little poem worthy of all this hullabaloo? She pinched herself to ensure that it was all indeed real.
And Kate, sitting next to her, was beaming. She had imagined that the poem would create an impact, deliver a punch even, but this kind of rousing reception for it and the eventual winning of the grand prize – this was totally out of her imagination. She had guessed that it would win the special jury prize, but bagging the QSS was straight out of a fantasy.
"Get up, Addie, go!" Kate pushed her into action.
"This is your big moment. And, dare we say, your fitting answer to that stepbrother of yours."
That was the kicker. Indeed, as Kate had suggested, this was her sweet revenge to the prince, for all he had done and said, for all the insults that he had heaped on her.
He must think the poem was a result of that incident, the thought ran through her head in a flash.
Well, too late now, the deed was done and the shield won. Now all that was left was to collect it.
She got up and began her walk to the podium. A hundred cameras were trained on her and thousands of eyes were riveted on her, with millions more glued to her from around the world.
Strangely, though it was her golden hour, she felt no animosity towards the prince. That was then, this was now; that was how royalty behaved, this was how commoners (or commoners-turned-royalty) responded. She felt at peace, and walked to collect her shield full of positivity.
The prince was gentility personified as she approached. She curtseyed as before, and he responded with a nod and a bow this time. The shield was passed on to the prince by the dean, and in his turn, the prince handed it over to Addie – amidst more applause and the media going crazy.
The award given, the prince extended his arm for the customary handshake. A moment – would she take it, would she not – and she reached forward to take it. The prince shook it with warmth, and the moment was over.
She walked back, with the same humility in her gait as always. The applause had not died down, the cameras were still purring away. Shutting it all out from her ears and from her head, she went quietly and sat down in her chair next to Kate. Her best friend was thumping her back, smiling a million watts, as the media cameras were still trained on them, showing two friends in celebration.
The ceremony over, everyone started dispersing. Even as the cameras were being dismantled, they were covering her and Kate, as much as they were also hounding the prince, who was still on stage.
Suddenly, someone came over and whispered something in Addie's ear.
"Oh?" she said as she looked towards the stage.
The prince smiled, and waved back at her. He wanted a minute of her time, and she had to oblige.
"I'll be back in a minute," she announced, thrusting the shield into Kate's lap.
She waded through the crowd and reached the stage. The prince was waiting to the side, his aides standing a little distance away. Cameras came alive as if by magic, trailing her throughout, till she reached the prince; then they sta
rted covering both of them.
"Hello, Princess Adelaide," said Kenrick, a distinct change in his manner from last time.
"Hello, Prince Kenrick," Addie answered, taking care not to miss any of the critical words as required by royal protocol.
"What about my invite?" His voice was down to a whisper.
"Which invite?"
She could not place what he was saying – for an instant.
"And there, ladies and gentlemen, the two royal siblings having a word with each other!"
BDSMing the Brat: ** 20 Book ** Taboo BDSM MEGA BUNDLE Page 52
